


The Rainy Season

by Vethyrae



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Birthday Sex, Canon Gay Relationship, Demons, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Seduction, Sexual Frustration, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vethyrae/pseuds/Vethyrae
Summary: Categorized by several days of non-stop rain and flooding, the "rainy season" happens to fall every year on the weeks before or during Camille, affectionately "Cam" Deveaux's birthday. Having spent the past half-decade training under Master Engineer Jaska or "Jam" Irakov and growing into a fine artificer of his own right, he is faced with the dilemma that soon his apprenticeship will draw to a close. He will have to return to his noble household and begin work to become a proper nobleman. But even in the Kingdom of Remeria, Jaska Irakov never quite accepted tradition anymore than would he allow his apprentice to leave without making a choice. An unexpected birthday gift awaits Camille as he struggles through his torment and desire to impress Jaska and even more, to finally confess the feelings that he has developed over the years. Jaska Irakov, ever pious and reserved, treats these admissions with utmost responsibility until a particularly severe storm settles over the kingdom.For all of Jaska's sagely reservations and by some nearly supernatural alignment with the storms outside, Camille's invitation to turn their relationship into something more haunts him hour by hour.
Relationships: Jaska Irakov / Camille Deveaux
Kudos: 4





	The Rainy Season

**Author's Note:**

> Jaska Irakov and Camille Deveaux are characters briefly introduced during Chapter 1 of the Apocrypha webcomic (available to read for free here at http://www.apocryphacomic.com) written by yours truly and with co-authorship and art by the talented Vervain. Please review the main site for more details and if you are curious of seeing Jaska and Camille firsthand in that brief introduction to Desmonde's family members. 
> 
> Also, while it is not made apparent to our comic readers, at that point in the main story of Apocrypha, Jam and Cam have already established their relationship. "The Rainy Season" takes place a year or two before current time in the comic. It is worth mentioning for those that have not read Apocrypha that this world is post-apocalyptic and innovations are on the rise only by the sheer fortitude of people like Jaska Irakov. Demonic hordes are a very real problem outside of the human-established kingdoms too. It's a thriving hell on earth and humanity is just barely scraping by.

Camille Deveaux was seated at his favorite corner in Gear Halt Industries. Countless rows upon rows of shelves containing salvaged parts, schematics, and half-finished projects hid his small desk from the rest of the main warehouse building. The main warehouse, the northernmost building in the Black Hammer District, housed the Offices of Engineering and treasured artifacts that the Master Engineer, Jaska Irakov, collected throughout his lifetime and travels. But this was no office that Camille found himself in, he was seated instead in the far corner with a desk he dragged there himself and a chair that he discovered was comfortable enough to situate his lithe frame. He was working on something with meticulous focus, his sharp, dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Camille was tense as he worked. He possessed a short temper and his general disposition was very unlike the other factory workers and engineers. Physically, his hands were delicate but swift, blackened by grease and mottled oil certainly, but they moved with ambidextrous grace in manipulating the smallest of parts. A visitor to the main warehouse building would not find this young man swinging hammers.

It was nearing five years that he took up training as an artificer under Jaska Irakov as requested by his foster father, the head of House Deveaux, Lord Francois Deveaux. Camille was referred to as a “troubled young man” by his foster father. That was putting it lightly. Jaska was known for his resounding success in fostering orphans and protecting the misbegotten youths in the poorest corners of the Legatus District so the recommendation was not particularly unusual apart from Camille’s noble status. Jaska taught these young people unique skills and gave them the opportunity to work with him when they reached adulthood. In Camille’s case, it was recommended by none other than the King of Remeria himself that he be placed in Jaska’s care until he came of age and could make himself useful back at his foster father’s estate. 

The thought of leaving Gear Halt Industries or his home with Jaska Irakov and Desmonde sickened Camille and served as a distraction from his work. Desmonde was the other “wayward youth” Jaska was fostering but to the best of Camille’s understanding, Jaska was raising Desmonde since his birth.

The idea of this departure was weighing heavily on Camille. Tomorrow evening was his birthday, marking the fifth year he worked for Jaska and came to know him as family. While he lifted his dark lashes under the weight of some pressing fatigue for having been at this project all morning, he found himself staring up at the open office where Jaska was working out schematics with other engineers. Camille could just trace the outline of Jaska’s powerful silhouette, larger than the other men and women in the room, and caught himself prolonging his observations with renewed curiosity. Surely Jaska Irakov knew what tomorrow was and what it would mean. Camille would be requested back home and he would need to begin preparations for leading a noble house. It sickened him to his core the more he dwelled on it. Lord Deveaux was very old but surely he had enough years left for Camille to avoid that mantle of responsibility this early in his life. 

With a shaky inhale to regain his focus, he tore his gaze from the silhouette of the large Rundellian man to favor his project anew. The mechanical serpent he was building twisted around on articulated rivets of steel and copper. When Camille turned an activation knob, cleverly disguised as the serpent’s head, it began to pulse with life as it slithered across the desk. “Hah!” He allowed himself a moment of mirth but soon groaned loudly afterwards when the snake sputtered and stopped before it jerked to the left and threw itself gracelessly to the floor.

Camille was quick enough. He caught the creation before it struck the old, stone floor. Disgruntled and realizing the hour, Camille left his project on the table and pushed the chair noisily away from his desk and rolled his shoulders. He was a lanky youth, fair-faced or as some referred ‘woman-faced’, given the delicate shape of his jawline and his long, dark lashes. His hair was cropped short and brushed back, kept from his gaze with a small, dark red barrette. Finding the day was done for now, he reached to his locks and removed the barrette and carefully tucked it away in his vest pocket. Ruffling up his dark hair, he turned and nearly walked into the significantly larger Jaska Irakov who stared down at him expectantly.

“It is not time for going home,” he rumbled in meeting Camille’s surprised expression.

“It’s Friday. I want to get dinner started,” he argued and looked back at his project with considerable dismay. Jaska saw through the young man’s frustration immediately and carefully stepped around him to approach the small, hidden desk. He eyed over Camille’s favorite tools and parts that were neatly gathered around the failed serpent contraption. 

“It is raining,” Jaska added under his breath, lifting the serpent contraption. He took a moment to search in his apron and soon withdrew a tiny pair of pliers. He twisted the serpent on its back and found the screw that came undone in Camille’s preemptive launch and carefully twisted it back in place. “There… at least you will remember where you left off,  _ da _ ?”

“Right,” Camille answered, his brows furrowing as he stared at him expectantly. His violet eyes betrayed his expression especially because Jaska seemed to sense the young man’s frustration. It was not the small project he was busying himself with that caused Camille’s aggravation to flare like this.

“You are supposed to tidy stock with Rhoda. But seeing as she is leaving as well due to this rain, we will allow for an early Friday. How is this sounding?” Jaska offered, his accent thicker than honey pouring from a spoon and just as sweet to Camille’s ears. 

“Yes… Thank you Jam,” Camille answered after a moment, his hardened expression softening while his gaze swept over the Rundellian man. Jaska was a tall man, standing just over six feet and four inches. While age painted his hair silver white against that mane of dark brown, his eyes were shimmering with intelligence and calculation. His body was broad, muscular, and he damn near took up the small alcove that they were standing in together. It was at this moment that Camille realized how close his mentor was standing to him and he felt a nervous gulp building in his throat. He swallowed hard.  _ This… this again. _ Camille felt his chest tighten as he sought to inhale and calm himself down. Already, his features were reddening considerably while working to side-step the retired Saint of Remeria to offer a quick smile. “Y-Yeah and… is Desmonde gone tonight?”

Jaska watched as the young man pointedly stepped around him while approaching the entrance of the enormous doors of the main building. He followed closely to keep the conversation going. “ _ Da _ , gone. But forgive him, with all this rain the Guardians are avoiding Legatus. Not that this is unusual on clear days either. He and his friends are going to patrol until Monday.”

“How dare he miss my birthday?” Camille scoffed and all at once he was offended. It was so like Desmonde to run off with his friends and while Camille turned down every invitation to join them on the patrols, he still expected to be asked before they went! The audacity made him huff again as he removed his apron from his slender frame and hung it up while plucking his cap from the nearby hooks lining the entrance wall. 

Jaska was grinning. He clapped an enormous hand on Cam’s thin shoulder. It made the young man nearly shiver at the weight and the warmth flooding his chest from those fingertips just barely meeting the skin along his neck at the gesture.

“A gift was left for you this morning. Desmonde is wanting you to open it for tomorrow though. Not today. Today is not yet your birthday.” The aggravatingly handsome Rundellian chastised him while standing at the entrance of the main building. The rain grew louder in its persistence as sloshy puddles and mud filled the cobbled streets.

“W-Well...that was nice of him, I suppose,” Camille answered, pointedly looking away to the rainy streets he would have to run through to make it home without becoming completely drenched. “Will you be home soon? If the rain doesn’t let up… I mean… production will have to hold, won’t it?”

“ _ Da _ , but we are ahead. We prepared well thanks to your help earlier this month, Cam. Keep the fire on and I will be following before long,” he answered and withdrew his hand from the young man’s shoulder. 

Camille grinned at him, “No promises if you’re late, Jam. Hurry home!” Unfortunately, his mood soon turned dour again when he took his first step out into the rain. He watched Jam wave for a few moments before booking it at full speed. Camille knew that the rain was never kind for residents in Legatus District. In order to avoid the general conflict and frustration from leaky roofs and broken shingles, he ducked along various alleys and streets with ease. He knew these streets better than even Desmonde. Desmonde was too big to keep up with him. It was something Camille took some quiet pride in given Desmonde’s general reputation for being the “strongest” and most “promising” hero in Legatus District. 

But while the rain reached him between these buildings, Camille found the bitter cold water refreshing and nearly revitalizing. It was as though his anger was beginning to melt away. After all, Jaska remembered his birthday too. Jaska did not make any mention of him returning to his foster family either. Maybe he didn’t have to return. Maybe he didn’t have to think about it tonight either.

Upon arrival, Camille removed his boots and stepped clumsily from his soaked socks to let his bare feet meet the cold floorboards. He was shivering uncontrollably. He removed his cap and set to getting the hearth going with a few quick administrations. It began to warm the home considerably, allowing the youth to ruffle his damp locks and extend his hands to warm them. Peeling away his tunic, he set to undoing his belt and wriggling from his pants next. A hand touched over his narrow hips with consideration for his nakedness in standing before the hearth. It was so relaxing and inviting to be naked in front of the fire and even more relieving to be home alone to reward himself with such a sordid, little comfort. Stretching his arms out to fully embrace the heat, he remained there for a few more moments until he caught himself in the old, wooden mirror in the den and snickered at the sight. Slender and beautiful, Camille admired his silhouette a moment or two while making note of his birthmark just over his left pelvic bone. The small, upturned heart shape was as visible against his pale skin as it always was; a strange spot against a body and complexion not unlike white marble.

For how much he rather enjoyed the way the heat from the hearth was tickling his flesh, he was quick to pull on clean linens and begin preparation for dinner. He wanted to drink tonight. Jaska was right that tomorrow was his birthday but the week was long and celebratory wine from The Epilogue tavern seemed more than appropriate. While he set to work in preparing supper, he stopped in his tracks to find a small package sitting on their dining room table. His mind flooded with new curiosity. Desmonde always got him something for his birthday and Camille made a point to return the favor. They were “best brothers in arms”, after all, even if Desmonde annoyed him to no end with his lackadaisical ways and easy-going demeanor. 

Plucking the small package from its resting place, he turned it over and took note of the parchment attached to the wrapping, strung with care with a piece of twine. It read:  _ For Cam, Love Desmonde - also don’t open me until tomorrow. Aren’t you too old to be snooping gifts? Seriously. Don’t open until tomorrow. _

He scrunched his nose with irritation at this. How dare Desmonde imply that he could not wait? He would show him. Camille placed the package back where he found it immediately but temptation aroused his interests to pick it up again and give it a little shake as if to discern its contents. 

“Do not open until tomorrow.”

Camille dropped the package and gasped quietly at the heavy voice of Jaska who was grinning at him from the hallway as he peeled off his wet clothes. “R-Right! I won’t! … Dammit, Jam, You really scared me. I didn’t even hear the door.”

“Too busy making the  _ schemes _ , aren’t you?” Jam replied, his thick accent straining the words as he pulled his sweater from over his head and smoothed back his damp locks. He was already walking into the kitchen while pulling on a clean, linen shirt retrieved from the hall closet. 

For Camille’s interest in the gift from Desmonde, he was immediately captivated by the descent of the dry garment veiling the wrought abdomen of Jaska’s torso. Jaska always looked so strong and given his clothing was still damp from the waist down, Camille found himself staring. Again. When Jaska moved within the kitchen to join him in dinner preparations Camille looked away quickly and returned to the pans on their secondary stove to stoke the flames and keep the mess of rice and Silverdale-imported vegetables sizzling away. A few blends of spice were added and soon a heavenly aroma filled the room as Camille focused his attention on cooking. As for Jaska, he plucked up the wine bottle from the table and turned it over.

“You are wanting this with dinner?”

“W-Well, if it’s alright with you. I want to celebrate all weekend. It’s my birthday and I am really happy here and the week was long so--

“Of course it is,” Jaska interrupted and grinned impishly as he opened the top cabinets and withdrew a pair of tankards. The old cups were dusted clean as he set to preparing the table. 

The two engaged in idle conversation about Gear Halt Industries and Camille’s training as an artificer. While training under Jaska Irakov was his primary responsibility, Camille also entertained training with Desmonde on the backyard grounds outside their home. The boys would fight and wrestle for hours on end and while allowing Camille to engage Desmonde this way was initially a point of concern, Camille was delighted to prove to Jaska that he could handle himself quite well in a fight. He certainly got into plenty of them in his early youth with pampered nobles that could never take a punch. Too many broken noses, missing teeth, and explanations owed to very frustrated parents. 

While cooking, Camille savored what his sharp senses allowed him. He had an exceptionally discerning palette even at a young age and was able to make a meal from scraps which was often the case given the challenges of getting good vegetables and meat from the wealthier districts. While cooking supper distracted him from his worries about what would happen if he needed to return home, the thought resurfaced when he sat down beside Jaska at the end of the long dining table and watched the large Rundellian man pour him a tankard full of wine.

“Drinks to you, Cam. I am very proud to have had you here,” he offered, clanking his tankard audibly into Camille’s. 

The cup was large and heavy in Camille’s hands, he realized, but he managed to toast in return with a smile before taking a few deep gulps of this “Sanguine Fire” Broom from the tavern would not shut up about. It was delicious and spicy, a warm red wine that flourished Camille’s senses and lingered on the tip of his tongue. He would need to thank Broom when he returned with Desmonde from their patrols on Monday. 

“Thank you, Jam,” he replied, a small smile creeping on his face afterwards.

The two ate in relative silence, warming themselves with occasional conversation and the delicious meal. Leftovers were carefully put away to be enjoyed with fresh eggs for breakfast the next day and while Camille thought to leave his half-finished tankard, Jaska was quick to extend it to him. Camille accepted it graciously in offering him a smile that courtesy of the wine would not depart his beautiful features. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the spirit of their shared wine was beginning to dance with the vice that Camille tried to bury deeper than any thought he held since arriving at this house in his youth.  _ I want to know Jaska Irakov. I want him to know me. I want to impress him.  _

“Um… are you planning on turning in, Jam?” Camille asked after swallowing another sip. The large man was finishing up washing the dishes and carefully placed each to the side of the sink with a lifted brow.

“Mmm… was thinking for bath and then good book. The rainy season is always doing this. I do nothing but read and sleep,” he chuckled deeply in offering Camille a smile in return.

“Do you want me to draw you that bath? I was going to head to my room and work on some schematics,” he offered, his fingers nervously tapping along the mug as if it were a grounding element. It served as a tangible thing for Camille to recall given its cold, steel composition. His mind was elsewhere entirely as he watched Jaska Irakov approach him in order to depart the kitchen. 

“ _ Net _ , _ net _ … you should get to relax. I can do it,” he paused and looked down, his brows furrowed in brief surprise at the sight before him.

Without realizing it, Camille had extended his hand for his palm to settle against Jaska’s strong abdomen, his palm residing just under his navel. He could feel the contours of his muscle under the linen shirt. Camille did not seem to immediately register his hand acting of its own accord and stopping Jaska from stepping around him and into the hallway to make for his bath. Clearing his throat as if to gather Camille’s attention, Jaska looked between the entry of the hallway and Camille expectantly. But Camille appeared too horrified to move at the miscreant behavior of his wayward hand and he shakily withdrew it to wrap it around the mug. “S-Sorry, thought you had something there…”

“ _ Net _ ,” Jaska snickered, lifting a hand to ruffle up the younger man’s dark locks. It was futile. Desperately futile. Camille withdrew his hand at the familiar gesture of affection from the larger man and he pointedly held his mug for dear life while standing in the kitchen entry. 

“Um… Jam?” he inquired aloud. It was not long before Camille’s mind was racing with newfound thoughts. His fingertips had felt the solid muscle there and how each line seemed to dance toward his lower torso and down to those damp slacks that without his belt were threatening to spill down away from Jaska completely. It caught the young man entirely off-guard with his budding curiosity. It was not as though Camille never noticed his attraction for his mentor before. Jaska Irakov was a uniquely handsome man with a body designed for strength and combat that was honed decades ago in facing off against some of the most devastating demons to ever grace the primal world. 

Surely it was the wine that forced his facade to falter. Surely it was the way the linen felt against Jaska’s abdomen when he pressed his hand against him that allowed him to take a few steps toward the bathroom down the spacious hallway and settle against the doorway there. He heard the rushing of hot water and looked back down ast his wine glass in disbelief. What was he doing? There was nothing to be done in this situation. Even if those rumors on the history surrounding Jaska and the Saints of Remeria were remotely true… there was the matter of the difference in their age and the fact that Jaska was such a pious man. Religion proved a comfort, he once told Desmonde and Camille, when it concerned mourning his fallen friends. While maintaining any religion these days was especially unfashionable and often frowned on given the state of the world, Camille took solace in listening to Jaska read in his Old World bible and would often fall asleep in the den when Jaska would read to both young men. More importantly, it was reason enough for Camille to doubt that his lust-driven thoughts were anything Jaska Irakov would entertain.

_ Unless… _

_ Unless…  _

How could he know unless he tried? A voice, not unlike a siren’s song, crept through Camille Deveaux as unbeknownst to him his violet eyes cast a faint glow in the dark while he stood outside of the bathroom door in the hallway. Camille ignored the voice whispering strange and dark tidings in his mind, dismissing it as his subconscious manifesting freely under the spell of his wine-drunk state. He gathered enough courage to press a hand to the door, press it just slightly ajar, and peer within the small, sliver of light blooming the image of his desires. 

Half-dressed, Jaska Irakov was an imposing figure standing there against the dark tiles and old stones surrounding the bathroom. Their home was nice, by the Legatus District standards, and offered hot water courtesy of the recent infrastructure overhauls by Gear Halt Industries. The bath itself was built into the stone walls, easily filling to the brim with sweet-smelling water. But for all of the splendors of a hot bath on a rainy day, Camille was uninterested. He drained the contents of his tankard in a quick gulp and placed the tankard between the door and the entryway. For now, Camille did nothing. He savored the sight of Jaska furrowing his brow at his reflection in the wall mirror and running a hand and then a brush through his silvery locks and offering a hint of fiendish admiration for himself. It was a private, brief, but all together humanizing display of vanity that Camille rarely ever saw in the former demon hunter. It fascinated him.

But for Camille’s best efforts to linger there, he withdrew from the doorway in his spying and lifted his tankard from the floorboards to settle against the wall. The door was shut ever so carefully. Camille’s eyes fell shut as he breathed evenly, catching his breath to force a modicum of calm to settle his mind. He was slightly drunk, he realized, in opening his eyes to glare up at the ceiling. He was drunk enough to not quite hear Jaska who was standing next to him in the hallway, barefoot, and shirtless. The door was reopened without Camille realizing it whatsoever.

“What is this? Are you feeling alright?” Jaska insisted, crouching down next to him to bring the back of his hand to Camille’s forehead.

As Camille’s attention focused and the haze of the intoxicating wine-spell began to drift away the moment his skin made contact with Jaska’s hand, he fought to find some words but could only offer him a meek smile at first. 

“Jam… I… do not feel…”

“You are burning,” he remarked, frowning at the feverish young man and muttering lowly in his native tongue. Camille understood enough of the language to know he was being chastised but an easy, lop-sided grin cornered his expression as he placed the tankard down once more. 

“N-No, it’s alright… I have to tell you something.”

“ _ Da _ ?” Jaska looked him over with concern and took the tankard away as Camille stared at him more evenly.

“Yes. Yes, I have to tell you something,” Camille began but felt both of Jam’s hands touch his cheeks as if curiously trying to identify his temperature, “I-I’m fine… stop…haha, Jaska, stop.” He let his slender hands slip over the large ones and he met Jaska’s gaze with pointed determination.

“What? What is it you need to say?” Jaska asked, smirking with amusement at the unfortunate and intoxicated young man.

Camille gulped hard and heard the quiet chimes of bells somewhere in his subconscious demanding he wake up and get his act together. He needed to speak these words and make his declaration known without the Master Engineer of Remeria dismissing him for a drunk child. He swallowed hard and gave his head a quick shake while keeping Jaska’s hands in his own. Meekly as ever, he managed the words but did his best to maintain direct eye contact for fear that if he looked away from the honey-brown color of Jaska’s eyes, he might slip back into exploring his mind’s lust.

“I… I love you,” he managed in Jaska’s native tongue. Rundellian was a wonderful, musical language evolved and adapted from Old World Russian and Camille desperately hoped he did the practiced words justice when addressing him this way. “I love you. I want… I want you terribly,” he managed and before Jaska could retaliate as those aforementioned eyes went wide in disbelief at this declaration, Camille Deveaux stepped forward to close the distance and bring his lips against his elder’s. He kissed him deeply, hungrily and while he felt Jaska grow increasingly tense and rigid at this blatant affection, he knew too well that the man was frozen from both these very words and the pressure of his lips against his own. Camille tasted his mouth as if it were the flavor he had ever discovered in his culinary exploration. Jaska’s lips were warm and stained from the wine but Camille tasted so much more. He tasted the salt resting just above Jaska’s lips from the steam of his bath and the sweat lingering on his body. He tasted the rain water yet present on his lips from rushing home. He tasted the blended spices from their dinner. But some new flavor was there that Camille could not quite place. It was new. It was liquid desire mingled in his saliva as if temptation itself could boast its own specific and unique flavor. Camille found it both familiar and impossibly new.

Jaska very carefully withdrew from Camille, his hands lingering on the sides of the young man’s face as the gears in his mind turned quickly in processing both his declaration and the otherwise less than chaste kiss that sealed it. “... Cam,” he began and would not permit the young man to speak further. “ _ Net _ … no…” he shook his head in smoothing his thumbs over Camille’s cheekbones as his gaze locked with his. Camille stared back with longing and felt his aptitude for approaching this matter gently beginning to fade at Jaska’s refusal.

“Why…? Is… it because I’m a man…?”

“Actually… that is n-not a problem,” Jaska tried his words and caught himself stammering as he watched Camille’s eyes, so impossibly bright and violet, while his broad hands yet cupped that delicate face in its inhuman beauty. “Th-That’s not the issue… I am too old, Cam. And… I am…” he grumbled, allowing his thumb to descend to trace Camille’s cheek and touch over the moist tier of his lower lip as if transfixed by how his mouth parted to greet his thumb. Jaska Irakov was momentarily captivated beyond reason.

“I don’t care… I don’t care about how old you are… or how old I am either.” When Camille felt that large thumb beginning to trace his lip, he instinctively pursed his lips to kiss it. His tongue extended much to Jaska’s chagrin at the gesture of bringing his lips to just barely suck along the tip of the digit before speaking again: “... Please Jaska. I can’t stand it anymore… I can’t.” Camille Deveaux was not against begging anymore than he expected he would be. He wanted Jaska to show him everything and to teach him everything. It was not enough that his erection was tenting his linen slacks as he sat there before the old warrior. Instead, it was everything to watch Jaska war with himself and fight against this sinful temptation.  _ He wants me too… he desires me… I can almost… feel his cock if I get a little closer, I’ll feel it against me… he is hard already too, isn’t he…?  _ Cam realized by now how heavily he was breathing as reason departed his mind in favor of continuing his desirous thoughts. 

“It’s… it’s wrong… I am your… teacher… I am caring for you… to do this is to betray your family… what… I….” Jaska spoke aloud but found he could not withstand Camille for long. The young man dipped under his hands in closing the distance between them again and he felt those dexterous fingers he watched dance like spidery shadows while at work press against his crotch with abandon. Jaska was powerfully hard the moment he shared a taste of desire on Camille’s lips. Camille already imagined the thoughts in Jaska’s head: He was too old for this. He gave all of this up years ago, didn’t he? In truth, Jaska’s thoughts were fixated on how Camille was persisting anyway. Would it really be so wrong to be touched like this again? 

_ Yes… yes it would be. Cam is drunk. He is drunk and confused and barely a man in age. Get a hold of yourself. What you want doesn’t matter. You’re his teacher, you goddamn old pervert. You’re his MENTOR and he looks up to you for guidance so he doesn’t end up fucking awful like the rest of the nobility he will soon have to deal with every day for the rest of his life. Don’t fuck it up for him. _

Breathlessly, Jaska would bring Camille into a sudden embrace as if to calm the young man down. It was the same embrace he would give when either Desmonde or Camille fought a little too hard and overwhelmed themselves in their rage. Desmonde was easy to bring back down from the depths of his nearly feral countenance, even though Jaska knew the dangers of what it would mean if he couldn’t. Camille was always much more difficult. He was so angry when he first came to live with them day in and day out. He needed an outlet and an expression and Jaska worked so hard to help foster that for him. This would destroy everything he helped the young man grow through. 

Camille was unable to allow his hands to persist as much as he wanted to and soon he returned the embrace. Jaska withdrew slowly and shook his head, explaining himself. “I am sorry,  _ malen'kaya ptitsa _ . It is not… it is not that there's anything wrong with… with you… quite the opposite,” he added in meeting his eyes once more. “You are the most beautiful I have met. No one with eyes like yours should be looking at this old man that way,  _ da _ …? Get some rest… go find book and…sleep in tomorrow... I will take care of breakfast for birthday. We will… forget about this and try to have fun.” Jaska spoke each word shakily while untangling himself from Camille’s slender arms and very gently pressing those long limbs down to his sides. Jaska gave him another once over, a faint smile, before he drew within the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He escaped. 

Dumbstruck, Camille heaved a deep sigh as tears finally welled over his lashes and he rubbed them away quickly. How embarrassing. It was infuriating beyond reason and it was enough of a rejection that the young man needed to march his way upstairs for his room without hesitation this time. After all, did any of it even matter? He was going to have to return to House Deveaux soon anyway. Why did Jaska care so much about it? Camille closed the door behind him, wetting his lips with his tongue and soon met his warm bed in defeat. He stretched his arms and legs but soon found his favorite pillow which was embraced. Camille buried his face into it and screamed for several seconds against the muffling fabric until the effort tired him. His heart was breaking but he easily dismissed it for the anger in that humiliating rejection. And worst of all…? Jaska had the gall to be  _ so fucking nice _ about it. 

Camille Deveaux was up early. He wanted to sleep in as instructed and avoid Jaska in the kitchen for the time being but his mind was still racing from the night before. When he got over the agony of his heartbreak enough to divert his focus on attending his painful, unrelenting erection, he passed out and slept in his sullied blankets like some defeated, sinful wretch. Gathering his linens from the room, he dressed not long after a hot bath and piled the sleeping clothes and sullied sheet atop the other laundry. While standing in the old bathroom, the same room he disturbed Jaska from the evening before, he caught sight of Jaska’s discarded shirt. Gathering his fingers around the discarded garment that just missed the basket, he brought it up to his fair, sleepy features. Without thought for shame, he buried the faintly damp garment into his features and inhaled deeply. 

_ Sweat. Black powder. Leather apron. Rain water. Spiced wine. Masculinity diluted into some strangely intoxicating musk. But the same smell reminds me of what his lips taste like… salty... so sweet from that spiced wine…  _ Camille quieted his thoughts and threw the garment in the large basket where it was intended and returned to his morning rituals. 

After a long bath, the artificer pulled on a pair of slacks and stepped barefoot across the bathroom to recall a loose tunic from several hanging in the bathroom. It was Desmonde’s that he outgrew years ago and Camille carefully mended the stitching along the linen into something passable. He learned early on that people in Legatus did not waste anything and this was especially true of luxuries like clean clothes. Once he understood that, Desmonde’s outgrown clothing was something he cherished in fitting to his smaller, more slender physique. But in thinking of his “brother in arms”, Camille recalled the small gift waiting for him on the kitchen table. It was enough for him to build his nerve to find Jaska in the kitchen.

“Too early,  _ malen'kaya ptitsa _ !” Jaska laughed aloud. The eggs were sizzling on various pans and fresh loaves of sliced bread were set on the counter. He was making breakfast for him. And much to Camille’s great irritation, he was being perfectly  _ normal _ . Camille almost hoped for some awkwardness to make himself feel less out of place but of course Jaska recovered already from last night’s embarrassing attempt at seduction. Sinking into his chair, Camille mumbled a “good morning” in gladly taking up the nearby mug to pour himself a cup of coffee. Cream and milk were rarely used apart  from special occasions and Camille rather came to enjoy the dark beverage exactly as Jaska prepared it; strong and bitter. 

“Where is my present from Desmonde?” Camille asked in peering over his steaming mug to search the kitchen table. 

“ _ Da _ ,  _ da _ … eat first. I wish to give you my gift at the same time,” Jaska answered and resumed cooking. It was not that Jaska or Desmonde ever had any issues with cooking but both men came to depend on Camille for most meals considering he took great joy in the matter. Sniffing the air, Camille stood up and heaved a sigh to address the eggs that were beginning to burn. “Sit, sit,” Jaska retaliated in looking down at him. Their eyes met and it made Camille’s stomach turn over several times as he quickly averted his gaze.

“I’ll help. You should go sit down and have some coffee before it gets cold,” Camille answered quietly, keeping one hand on the spatula while the other lingered to hold his mug of coffee. He occasionally sipped from the mug, using it to serve as some pathetic disguise from his otherwise broody expression.

“Mmm,” Jaska sounded but remained nearby as he watched Camille correct his elder’s mistakes in managing the fluffy, scrambled eggs into something passable once more. Camille felt his staring and lifted his attention back to the man with some trepidation.

“I um… I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.”

“Apologize?” Jaska inquired, his large arms folding in front of his chest as he watched Camille lift the eggs from the pan to the thick slices of toast on their nearby plates. Camille looked away from him and internalized several curses as his anger bubbled to the surface. Did he actually need him to elaborate further? Was he making fun of him? 

Feeling his face growing hot, an obvious redness spilled over his fair features as he spoke after a very disgruntled sigh: “Y-Yes…I am very sorry.” 

“Don’t be, Cam,” Jaska answered. “We… ah…” he looked to be picking together his words before asking, “Maybe to explain is… easier in Rundellian.”

“Go ahead,” Camille answered after lowering the flame on their kitchen’s stove and setting up the plates for them to sit down. He gestured for Jaska to sit first, always on the verge of adapting to customs of etiquette and nobility that demanded he adhere to Jaska leading as head of the household in some display of respect.

Jaska waited for Camille to sit at the chair opposite of him and busied himself by pouring a cup of coffee. When the man spoke in his native tongue, it came to Camille’s ears like music. For the past five years he listened so attentively, especially when Jaska conversed with Desmonde or Rundellian workers at Gear Halt Industries. He wanted to understand him. He wanted to know this dead language too. Camille’s sharp hearing granted him the means to understand most of the casual conversations with ease now but he did hope that Jaska kept his speech slower so he could understand him properly.

“I have only ever been interested in men. It was always this way and it cost me a few friendships early in my life, especially when we first came to Remeria. I hurt Desmonde’s mother for being this way. I hurt Dmitry, my best friend, when I loved someone else too. I don’t think I am capable of loving anyone ever again. You are so young, little bird. I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I did by loving blindly and… giving away your heart the way I did. God might forgive me one day for the people I have hurt in this life… but the living won’t. I could never forgive myself either for allowing you to love someone like me.” Jaska spoke slowly as if anticipating this being necessary for those learning his dead language. Jaska’s heavy-lidded gaze remained focused on the contents of his coffee mug. He could not look at Camille but a sad sort of smile crept over his lips in concluding his explanation. 

Camille listened and watched Jaska very carefully, studying his expression as he worked his way through that explanation. “I… don’t think you understand,” Camille answered, initially in Remerian before he resorted to carefully testing his abilities with Jaska’s native tongue.

“What do you mean?” Jaska offered, using the opportunity to take a sip of the dark beverage and return the mug to the table, leaning back against the chair. He stared with renewed intensity at Camille.

Meeting his gaze, Camille thought through his explanation and for Jaska’s sake, he stuck with his elder’s native tongue but remained very careful with his grasp of the language. 

“I don’t need your permission to feel this way. I know how I feel. I know what my heart wants. But even more than that, I don’t want to lose my home here. I don’t want to upset you or Desmonde but I have to make my feelings known or they were going to… to… destroy me. If you need to send me back to Silverdale for that, I… guess I understand. What I want most of all is to be here. I want to be where… where you are.”

Breakfast was getting cold. The silence between the two men was interrupted only by the bustle of people fleeing the afternoon rain outside as the storms settled in anew. Without warning, Jaska exhaled audibly and reached behind him to the small hutch and withdrew Desmonde’s gift from yesterday to extend it to Camille. He did not speak. He nodded to the package expectantly even though Camille’s violet eyes pointedly watched him with expectation for an answer or a follow up to his desperate words or anything.

“This can wait, Jaska… I need you to answer me… I am not a child. I understand the weight of my words completely. God-willing, I know I am not going crazy-- 

“Open it,” Jaska insisted and folded his large arms in front of himself.

“But… this can wait. We should talk about this,” Camille protested and Jaska, infinitely stubborn and a master of patience in contrast to the petulant storm brewing in the younger man for being brushed aside over the gift exchange, stared at him expectantly. Waiting.

Camille sighed, his face flushed with new anger as he snatched the small package and set to tearing the twine and brown paper away. Under the wrapping paper, Camille placed the unremarkable box to the table and opened it by breaking the wax seal that secured the lid shut. Resting inside, of all things to receive from Desmonde, was a key. It took Camille a few moments to register the shape of a key on a silver chain and he found himself stammering, “What...is… is this?”

“Desmonde and I spoke of it before he left. We decided we want you to stay here for as long as you want. That is your key to this house,” Jaska explained, his sad smile shifting into one of sincerity as he watched Camille’s disbelief in holding the newly made key in his palm in disbelief. Tears rushed the corner of Camille’s eyes as he breathlessly tried to form the words but soon fell back to Remerian amidst the conversation.

“Do… do you mean it? Even after… what happened last night?”

“Yes. This will be your home as long as you need it. You are family no matter what happens… or… however you may feel,” Jaska answered, admittedly relieved to see the joy in the young man’s heart over this proposition.

“What of Monsieur Francois? He does not need me to return to the Deveaux Estate?”

“ _ Net _ . Deveaux wants you to be happy, Camille. You may live wherever you want. You will inherit his place upon his passing but I have agreed to help you with those affairs if you need it.”

“This… this makes me so happy,” Camille murmured, his body relaxing as relief washed over him. He stood up, walking around the table, and wound his slender arms around Jaska’s shoulders. Jaska smiled through it, returning the embrace and found himself squeezing that slender frame against himself despite his seated position. It took considerable effort for Camille to relinquish him given his desire to be in close proximity to him again. Remaining on Jaska’s side of the table, he wiped his eyes of those tears while still clutching the key in his hand. “But you said this was from Desmonde. Did you get me something from… from you?”

“I did,” Jaska answered and leaned back in his chair to reach over to a hidden package on one of the other chairs nearby. He presented it to Camille who was already working the key-necklace over his head to wear it with unshakable pride. “Here.”

It was a long, rectangular, wooden box constructed with remarkable care. Camille’s initial impression was how old the wood felt under his fingers. He ran his fingers over the expertly carved wood and took notice of the aged grooves that shaped flowers around the sides. He opened it by lifting the brass latch carefully. Resting within the box was a string of rosary beads. The cross bore no crucified figure but its shape attracted the young man’s attention. Each bead bore strange patterns and Jaska managed an explanation as he watched curiosity spill over Camille’s delighted features.

“I made it. It is from petrified wood. The wood is old and becomes hard like stone and presents these patterns. But you know how to pray and you know what each Mystery is intended for,” he explained, referring to the five major decades outlined with a larger bead. Jaska inhaled audibly before continuing his explanation in his native tongue, “...it is not only because you have been open to learning of my faith, as… frowned on as the Old Church is these days… but because I keep mine close to remember to have faith at all. Faith in my work… my family… and faith in myself… it… it can be hard to believe that we are being watched over anymore but I hope this reminder keeps you where you need to be, little bird.”

Camille treasured the rosary, completely mystified with every single detail, and after his examination concluded and with just as much concern for the wooden box it was presented in, he placed it away in drawing his arms back around Jaska. “Thank you… it’s very beautiful and it means just as much to me knowing I get to continue to call this place home. You’ve… you’ve taught me so much that I will carry with me for the rest of my life, Jam. Th-Thank you… this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He gulped the words as new tears filled his eyes. He wanted to refrain from crying again but Jaska was not so cruel as to withdraw from him and instead let the young man weep quietly in his arms as he offered him another prolonged squeeze.

The two remained like this for several more minutes as Camille calmed down from the wave of gratification and he returned to his seat, admiring the wooden box anew and then recalled his breakfast toast. It was cold but he did not care. His immediate thoughts were placated for the time being and while he exchanged a smile with Jaska, who effectively did divert the conversation back to birthday celebrations, he was grateful for his elder’s tact. They ate together and enjoyed one another’s company with replicated mirth as the morning bled into the afternoon. While it was raining entirely too hard to venture out, Camille was content spending his birthday exactly where he needed to be; home and seated in the den with Jaska Irakov. 

By evening, the two men spent the day recounting tales from when Jaska was a Saint of Remeria, a great demon hunter, and Camille shared his schematic drawings with him across the table in the den where both were soon seated on the floor and hastily scribbling away at the parchment unrolled there. They spoke entirely in Rundellian for Jaska’s sake and Camille appreciated how he would gently correct him and allow him the opportunity to practice the language. 

“No, no… look… if we build an entire menagerie for Ambassador Laurent’s villa garden, you have to promise me there will be an off switch in case the birds go mad and start diving on guests,” Jaska laughed through his words, pointing to the various cranes and doves that were outlined there.

“What? Nonsense! That will make it a more memorable garden party, don’t you think? I mean, hell, if anything the Ambassador will thank us!”

Jaska laughed uproariously in snatching the pencil from Camille while leaning over back and shook his head. “A failsafe is important… This is one of your first commissions from the Silverdale nobility and I want to make sure we do it right. He has only asked for a few doves for now that can fly out on command whenever he...” Jaska paused, snickering through his teeth as he added a few notes to Camille’s schematics, “... whenever he enters the garden. They will FLY and shower him with flower petals… so best make sure they  _ shit _ these petals too, yes?”

Both men were in hysterics, Cam’s cheeks already turning red at the imagery while he leaned back from their coffee table to rest on his palms save for sparing a moment to wipe his eye. “I… I… get it, yes. I will do my best to meet the requirements of the commission. They’ll be done in no time. Promise.”

Jaska smirked at him while finishing his notes and placed the pencil aside to carefully roll the parchment up for Camille. “I know you will make them perfect, little bird. Tell me...has this been an enjoyable birthday for you? What would you like to do next?”

Camille watched the care that Jaska took in managing the schematic drawings back in their paper-bound wrapping. Camille leaned back near the fireplace as the warmth soothed his shoulders and neck from hunching over the table for the past few hours. “I could get dinner started. We have meat in the cellar and I think a few good vegetables are left. Are you hungry?” 

“Mm, I could eat if you are cooking. But I wanted to let you relax for your birthday and not have to cook for a change. It is bad enough you took over breakfast,” Jaska offered while standing up to prevent Camille from rolling to his feet and making his way to the kitchen. His heavy hand settled on Camille’s shoulder in ushering him back to sit and relax. Camille let his slender fingers settle over Jaska’s broad hand in offering him a meek nod. He accepted the invitation and set to work making himself comfortable by the fire. He stole a large pillow from the sofa and easily stretched his long frame out on it like a content cat. 

While watching Jaska disappear into the kitchen, it was difficult to not fall back into the same pattern of thinking even though his mentor turned him down twice in the past twenty four hours. Yet Camille was awash with questions about Jaska’s past relationships. Based on what he understood of Jaska’s explanation, it seemed as though the people who fell in love with Jaska were provided the same rejection one way or another. What about Desmonde’s mother? Neither Jaska or Desmonde ever spoke of Desmonde’s birth parents and while he understood Desmonde was an orphan now, perhaps the story there was compelling in its own right. Desmonde was raised since birth by a man that broke his mother’s heart. Very curious. And what of the other name? Dmitry? Who was he and who was the other person that Jaska loved instead of him? It certainly could not have ended well. For as long as anyone could recall, Jaska Irakov was without a partner and perfectly content despite many interesting offers and invitations from his peers. When Jaska taught him about his religion, Camille easily understood that perhaps he did not have a partner because he was a pious man of the faith in the Old Church. 

This was different from his expectations though. Jaska Irakov really did prefer the company of men. Camille did not know what he preferred for himself and while he found others his age attractive in their own right; men, women, or otherwise, one overriding truth came to his mind for as long as he could remember. Jaska Irakov was the strongest, most impressive and most powerful man he ever met. Not only was he the reason why the entire kingdom was thriving with new technology and advancements, but he kept the Legatus District employed in Black Hammer and safe. He was the entire district’s connection to the Silverdale District and his words held tremendous weight in those gilded halls far removed from this place of squalor. 

Sitting up from his large pillow, Camille studied the figure of the Master Engineer as he set to work in making preparations for dinner. He watched how every action he took was swift, deliberate, and practiced even in such a simple routine as chopping vegetables or bringing down the heavy pots and pans. Camille’s brows lifted in watching the hem of Jaska Irakov’s shirt struggle with his outstretched arms once again offering display of his lower abdomen. The line of hardened muscle there let Camille’s mind wander off again. Camille Deveaux did not know what he preferred. But he knew his thirst for the old demon slayer was a fact. Stubbornly, he reached down to his slacks and with the discretion of being alone in the den, he adjusted his half-mast erection and forced his attention back to the flames churning away in the fireplace.

Camille’s unusual violet eyes shifted back under the weight of his long lashes to watch Jaska from the kitchen. He was cutting a large gourd-like vegetable and his broad shoulders seemed so large in leaning over Camille’s usual spot on the kitchen counter. 

“Fuck,” Jaska sounded off and soon threw the blade in the sink and grimaced. Blood rushed down his arm from a misplaced maneuver of the knife. The sound of the steel blade striking the sink alerted Camille quickly to join him in the kitchen in order to investigate what happened. Leaning over the sink, Jaska was running water over a fresh wound from slicing too close to his index finger. It was deeper than he expected and his brows were furrowed in obvious frustration. “Clumsy idiot...I’m sorry, little bird. It’s fine, it’s fine,” he managed in his native tongue. Camille detected the faintest trace of embarrassment in his elder companion but was quick to move in to assist him.

“Don’t apologize… I just sharpened the knives and should have told you ahead of time. I’m so sorry,” he protested and lifted the man’s hand from the running water to fish quickly in the drawers for something to dress the wound. 

While Camille held the large hand in his, his attention was drawn back almost immediately to the cut. Again, that strange, hissing sound entered his mind. It was his subconscious manifesting again, wasn’t it? Although this time, Camille was not drunk. He was not angry. He did not need to be talked down. But why did the voice return again? Why did he hear this voice at all? It was terribly incoherent but became so loud in his mind that he could hear nothing else. Something was wrong. His body temperature rose and he inhaled sharply as though his lungs were not cooperating. His senses, so remarkably sharp, focused only on the sight and smell of the man’s blood. With impeccable care, Camille lifted the hammer-like fist upwards and held it while beginning to use the discovered gauze and cloth to bandage his hand. But it was no use. His pale fingers were trembling. 

Camille’s vision began to falter, the color of his pupils engorged against that rare violet color as he met Jaska’s gaze. Jaska wore the same expression of frustration with himself but soon met Camille’s eyes in something akin to confusion. He watched as Camille deftly wrapped his hand and secured it as neatly as he could despite his shivering. The Master Engineer flexed his hand and thought to withdraw his arm after thanking him but with unexpected strength, Camille secured both his long hands around Jaska’s large wrist. 

Something was stirring deep within Camille Deveaux, something utterly unknown to him and yet reverberated wildly with the intensity of the rainstorm outside. Thunder and lightning beckoned him forward as if signalling that the young man should press onward and follow his every instinct. The whispering, hissing voice was still so incoherent in its strange tongue as it echoed in his mind. But then, in unison with a particularly fierce peel of thunder. Camille understood one word in the cacophony of dark speech filling his mind:

_ Surrender. _

_ Surrender. _

_ Surrender. _

_ Surrender. _

The mantra was all Camille needed to cement his next maneuver. He would do as he pleased. Turning Jaska’s arm upward again, he brought the appendage to his lips and kissed against the bandage and lowered his tongue to the last trickle of blood that stained his wrist. Jaska watched as if entranced. Some strange spell was silencing the protesting voice from last night for the old warrior. He watched as Camille drew his tongue, so pretty and scarlet, from his wrist to savor that thumb until the digit disappeared completely in his mouth. 

“L-Little bird… what are you… doing…?” he whispered and without warning, an especially severe bolt of lightning struck close enough to their home that the electrical infrastructure was all but lost. In a moment, they were engulfed in darkness save for the glow of warm firelight from the den. The repeated crackle of lighting at the nearby window allowed Jaska sight of Camille’s tongue as it crudely and with desperate need, slurped along his wide thumb. Jaska pressed forward slowly to grant his uninjured hand the means to slip down along Camille’s waist and settle on his rear, squeezing the curvature in his palm. His breathing quickly became unbalanced and ragged, trying for words again even though he knew in his heart Camille would not be denied this time. “You need to… stop…”

“ _ Never _ ... _ we should instead surrender _ ,” he answered in a voice that Jaska only ever heard when Camille was consumed with the worst of his temper. It was a low, whispering hiss. Inhuman. Something else entirely. For several moments, the strange pair looked through one another before Jaska took a step forward and denied the distance between them. He freed his injured hand from the young man to favor drawing him back within the den. Camille accepted this guidance but his eyes did not depart from Jaska’s. Something horrible and beastly was stirring deep within his core as they were greeted by the warmth of the fireplace as the only source of light in the entire house.

Hastily, he reached for Jaska’s shirt to draw it over his impressive shoulders and his head as he was placed back down with the old warrior’s strong hands to sit on the large pillow. Jaska knelt before him, half naked, his breathing still shaky and his mood fearful but he soon wet his lips with his tongue in considering the beautiful creature before him. They were forging a pact, whether or not they knew it. The storm outside wrote the terms of this arrangement with enough ferocity that even the God of the Old Church might shudder at what profane powers were working the young Camille Deveaux in demanding his seduction of the old warrior be heard. 

_ Heaven help us…  _

But it was Jaska that acted first with apparent need to explore his artificer apprentice and return their closeness in every way imaginable. He tugged free the patchwork tunic from Camille’s shoulders and easily tore those slacks from his long, thin legs. With little hesitation he straddled Camille and reached for his belt to undo the clasp and draw it away as Camille’s fingers lifted to trace over Jaska’s abdomen and pelvic lines with his thumbs. Camille marvelled at how strong and powerful Jaska’s physique was from afar, but to be this close and be permitted the pleasure of touching him, he was quickly overwhelmed in his excitement as he reached downward to draw away his own undergarments. The heat of the fireplace licked his outstretched legs as Jaska hovered over him, drawing down his trousers enough to free his erection and grant Camille sight of the swollen member in its fullness. 

“Suck,” he commanded him. Camille looked up with him in surprise when he could finally tear his gaze away from admiring the large cock and its pulsing veins and how much the bulbous, round head was drawn visible from the pressing layer of foreskin nearly aching in its stretched limitations. Jaska knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he could not recall ever being this hard and any affectionate sweetness he may have spared for Camille withered away in favor of that direct command. 

A little confused by the prospect given his inexperience, Camille propped himself up on his elbows enough to align his face to Jaska’s cockhead and part his lips. It was here he had to reconcile with the size of the girthy member but Jaska was quick to offer his assistance in forcing it downwards to accommodate Camille's eager mouth. The tiers of those full lips parted in their wetness and he awkwardly attempted to savor the first few inches as his tongue extended to flatten under Jaska’s cock while he set to work nursing him with curious fascination. This appeared to be enough for Jaska, his chest rising and falling while he watched Camille’s dark lashes flutter with tears. Jaska soon pressed forward to drive his cock further into Camille’s mouth but slowed at any indication of actual distress.

It was a new experience, granted, but Camille served him well in making note of the flavors lingering on that weeping cockhead. He learned quickly that the harder he sucked the more he could coat his tongue in pre-ejaculate and it became all the inspiration the young man needed to work his mouth over him with inexperienced vigor. While Jaska would normally grit his teeth over such an act, he allowed himself a healthy groan as Camille worked him over inch by inch until the young man adjusted to bobbing his head with relative ease despite how little of his cock it took to reach the back of his throat.

Realizing how long it was since he experienced such a warm and inviting mouth, Jaska lifted his fingers from tangling in Camille’s dark, silky locks to withdraw his cock from his mouth out of fear of spilling over early. “Do… do you like this?” 

“Yes…” Camille breathed, dragging his tongue over his lower lip as if already missing the strain of his jaw and the weight of that cock. Although Camille answered him, he could not tear his eyes from the sticky shine of saliva coating Jaska’s member. He wanted to taste it again but would soon realize that he would need to wait longer. 

“Good. Let me see you…” Jaska answered and shifted backwards to set to work removing his own slacks completely and joining Camille in his nakedness. With the garments effectively discarded, Jaska watched Camille lay back and observed the glow of blush spilling over his pale frame. What strength Camille boasted was found in his arms and his shoulders and with time, those long legs were ideal for molding into a rogue’s prowess. But as much as Jaska’s hardened palms swept over his waist and resolved to settle on those narrow hips, he could not help but lower his features to take closer consideration of Camille’s cock, swelling lewdly against his stomach as the throbbing tip edged against his navel. “Beautiful in… every way…” Jaska rumbled, never once departing his native tongue that seemed even more musical in Camille’s ears as Jaska set about cruelly tracing his index finger along the length of Camille’s erection.

Jaska noted that much like the rest of Camille’s body, his cock was proportionately long and while it lacked the girth he himself boasted, it was easy for the old warrior to press his lips against Camille’s stomach and expertly guide the member down his throat. Camille parted his thighs in disbelief at how easy this was for him as he felt his cock wind up squeezed by Jaska’s throat muscles relaxing around him. But it was not just his mouth on him that made Camille begin whimpering; it was how his lips were already kissing the base of his cock and how his dark beard scratched so pleasantly against his rear and the softer skin of his testicles. He was shaking, legs squirming, and eyes distinctly rolling in his skull as he fought his toes from curling while Jaska appropriately did what Camille could not moments before.

Jaska’s honey-brown eyes opened to peer up at the delicate creature writhing under him and with care to not grant him the release he was no doubt craving, he instead propped Camille’s legs up and shifted either limb to offer sight of that untouched entrance. His mouth’s administrations all but ceased save for his tongue extending to offer a cruel and teasing sampling of his rosebud as he nestled instead his nose against Camille’s silky soft thigh. Bringing himself back up, he sank his teeth in Camille’s leg hard enough for the young man to gasp in confused distress but with the second bite that came closer to his saliva-coated cock just at his pelvis he was whining sweetly for “more” over his own dissonant and heavy breathing.

“Turn over,” Jaska instructed after a few moments but he did not wait for Camille to compose himself to move. The old warrior easily lifted Camille from the pillow to plant the graceful creature on all fours though it seemed difficult for Camille to maintain his balance on his hands at first. Looping one arm under the young man’s slender torso and the other found its way to palm his rump again and draw his large index finger to nudge at that entrance. “Tell me… so I don’t hurt you… have you experienced this before?” Despite asking the question, the tip of Jaska’s finger was already sinking inside of him, pressing over and over again as if manipulating a sensitive button on an even more fragile device from one of his many machines and creations. 

“N-Not… no… no…” Camille replied breathlessly. He knew enough from reading various books on erotic imagery and art that pleasures like this could award a man even greater release but he never had the gall to try it himself. It always seemed messy and crude and yet with Jaska, the man he declared his love for, touching his fingers there he felt his body eagerly relaxing with desire for this strange, new sensation. It was not messy or crude at all.

“You have to relax yourself… Do you think you can do that? If you want me to stop, you need to tell me.”

Jaska did not trust Camille to stop him with the way his body was reacting to his touching. Camille’s hips lifted to greet each press Jaska made of his finger as it sank slowly into him. “Camille, answer me…” he repeated the words, leaning his face close enough to press his cheek against his. A small kiss was planted on Camille’s ear. Jaska nearly hummed in repeating himself in his low, gravely voice, “...Answer me.” 

“Please… please stop teasing me…” Camille answered as he managed to open his eyes enough from behind his tears to look at Jaska. “I… I demand you to do more… I need it… you’re being so… cruel. Is… is this funny to you?”

Jaska grinned wickedly. Throughout the history of his rather short list of sexual partners, as intense as these experiences were, Jaska enjoyed a position of unquestionable control so these words leaving the lips of the young nobleman were more than enough incentive for him to suddenly sink that finger knuckle-deep inside of him. Camille gasped aloud, his jaw hanging open as his hips instinctively rocked back against that intrusive finger.

“Good… good… keep relaxed… just like that… don’t tense now… careful, careful…” Jaska rumbled these words deep in his throat as he expertly played with his hole, soon reddening like the rest of Camille’s flushing body, as the large finger pumped into him again and again. Little pleas for more came from the artificer. These sweet, bird-like sounds were only interrupted for the time that Jaska could position himself over Camille to kiss him deeply and savor the taste of desperation on his tongue. 

Breaking the kiss, Camille fought to find words while that single finger continued to work in opening him up. “Could I have… could you kiss me there again too…? Why did you stop that before?” 

“Ah, did you like that?” Jaska asked, breathless, as he watched him squirm with every touch. “You have to show me first that you can handle another finger… and maybe after I’m done with you, I will have no choice but to bury my tongue inside of you again…”

It was so impossible to believe the words coming from his mentor. But he was whispering them like a forbidden secret directly against the shell of Camille’s ear that was soon covered in more delicate kisses. Without asking for his preparation this time, however, Jaska applied his middle finger against his raw entrance and began to work it inside of him. With Camille’s compliance and willingness, he was able to quickly pump both fingers inside of him, spreading each digit on occasion as if to stretch him and open him further for what was to come next. Every touch had Camille whimpering, even whining, until the introduction of that second finger. He outright moaned and began mumbling incoherent nonsense in his mother’s tongue in answering Jaska Irakov’s onslaught.

It was enough for Jaska to have some faith that Camille could withstand exactly what he had in mind for him next. While not entirely preoccupied with the fact that he was about to claim Camille’s virginity, he was more focused on considering how best to position the artificer. While smaller than him, he was somewhat awkward and long in comparison to previous partners, but Jaska soon learned that Camille was very flexible. “Up, up,” he directed, and very carefully he withdrew his fingers from him and instead sat back to lift him in his arms. Camille’s long arms wrapped around Jaska’s shoulders in appreciation as their torsos faced one another and Jaska settled to sit back while easily holding Camille aloft at his legs while positioning him in his lap.

Bringing his throbbing cockhead to Camille’s tender entrance, he aligned their bodies in order for Camille’s long legs to rest behind him and he could face him and close the distance between them as long as Camille could manage to receive Jaska. And he would receive him gradually, to Jaska’s great delight and surprise, as he felt that enveloping tightness of Camille’s body open slowly for him from the previous administrations still soaked in their saliva and anticipation. Jaska recalled the good grace to cup Camille’s chin with his now freed hand and look directly into his strange eyes. “Tell me if you need me to stop… it is okay if you need to rest or for me to stop at any time… do you understand?”

“Y-Yes…” Camille answered and nodded quickly as tears began to bud over his eyelids as the strange, new pain introduced itself. Jaska’s cock was certainly larger than his fingers and while those digits warmed him up considerably, he was unsure if his body could even receive Jaska’s great size or what it might feel like compared to those playful fingers moments ago. It was agonizing but his endurance was nothing normal and for such gratitude, he steeled himself. He needed to prove to Jaska that he could do this. 

“Good… slowly now, relax… Easy… easy…” Jaska nearly growled the words in Camille’s ear as his trembling lover was lowered on him inch by inch, his stretched hole parting to receive that girthy member. A guttural groan turning into a brief scream filled the den as Camille shook his head but offered no further protest and instead arched his body forward to regain his stability. At his noises, Jaska wrapped his arms tighter around Camille in the same embrace used to quell the dangerous rage of the young man but he persisted as promised, effectively burying his cock in that enveloping warmth until he reached his full length. 

Twitching with arousal and confused delight, the impaled artificer lifted his gaze heavenward as he wound his arms about Jaska’s neck and lifted himself as if to guide his body into the movements he suspected Jaska intended. Jaska, marvelling at the heat and tightness of Camille’s body, soon answered by mimicking their shared movements with extreme caution at first. It was a slow and mesmerizing act for them both. They were desperate and awkward but ultimately Jaska found resolve in realizing that Camille was soon moaning without filter as he eased himself up and down on that pulsating cock as if his life were dependent on it. 

“F-Fucking… p-please, Jaska… don’t be gentle with me...I’m strong… I mean it,” Camille groaned in becoming impatient with the tender care and administrations provided by the old warrior. But before Camille could even finish the sentence, Jaska lurched their bodies forward to put Camille on his back and lifted those pretty legs back far enough that he bent him like a pretzel. Camille’s feet were resting behind his head and at this new angle and Jaska was easily able to begin pounding him, never once questioning the gushing warmth of Camille’s unnaturally adaptive body.

The new position was too much for the inexperienced young man and while he would have liked to have staved his climax to join with Jaska when he finally met his release, this new angle and the severity of each deep, harsh thrust into his body was enough for him to realize how the cluster of nerves seducing his prostate was going to drive him well and beyond over the edge. He came hard, a sputtering mess of sticky white that coated Camille’s chest and pretty face given the twisted angle of his body. His breathing was erratic and shallow and he was announcing his conclusion with pitiful little whines. Jaska seemed hellbent on continuing despite his new lover’s unanticipated orgasm. Camille’s cock was still hard afterwards, leaking seed incessantly at this point and even striking against his stomach as Jaska carried on. 

Awash in the afterglow of his post-orgasm and yet marvelling the way his body tightened and enveloped the enormous cock again and again as Jaska hilted himself, Camille closed his eyes and licked his lips of the salt, tasting his own cum and sweat, and whimpered aloud a fresh set of audible declarations for the old warrior. Meanwhile Jaska, having nearly lost himself the moment that Camille came considering the way his entire body went rigid and squeezed his cock throughout the young man’s eruption of an orgasm, was barely withholding his own release.  _ It had been so long _ . He never dreamed of considering Camille with this desire but the gratification for indulging with him this way was resonating deep within his core.  _ It felt too good _ . Everything about the artificer intoxicated him as his mind raced through where this attraction from Camille stemmed from. Did Camille always feel this way for him? But as useful as these distracting quandaries were from preventing his climax for a short while, they would not help him for much longer.

Jaska answered Camille’s pathetic whines and pleas with a deep growl in his throat until he released at long last. His cock bulged as it spilled within Camille’s body, inch by inch coating itself with sticky, hot cum that splashed on the floorboards under them as Jaska’s intrusive cock continued to pump in and out through the duration of his orgasm. Camille sighed deeply once the movements slowed and although Jaska untangled those pretty legs and removed his cock slowly, the angle granted Camille the beautiful sight of his stretched out hole straining as the cock was removed, coated in sweet fluid until it spilled over like a little pool when the tip followed at long last. As promised, Jaska looped Camille’s legs over his shoulders and lowered his face at that abused, cum-filled hole.

Extending his tongue he began to lap at the wonderfully raw and abused hole. The sensation was both soothing and profoundly overwhelming for Camille who began to writhe and try to squirm away from him. It was no use. Jaska held his thighs tightly in his strong arms as he set to work cleaning his new lover, burying his tongue in and out as his lips kissed and worked their way over that tender entrance until he exhausted the taste of cum. Licking his lips afterwards, he kissed the harsh bite mark he left on Camille’s thigh and lowered his legs in order to join Camille and lay down next to him while searching for the young man’s delicate hand. He brought the hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. 

For a considerable amount of time, they did not speak. Camille eventually needed to answer the fact that Jaska’s tongue-work got him painfully hard again. He had questions too but those were overshadowed by the faint pulses of dark arousal yet swimming in his body and mind. By now, the storms were still circulating over the kingdom of Remeria and occasionally the thunder rolled through their ears but the silence itself was still comforting.

“I… I want to try something else,” Camille offered and sat up to close the distance between them and kiss Jaska’s mouth and then his chin. 

“More? … Little bird, I really am… too old,” he laughed and a rare blush began to spread over his face. Jaska’s senses were beginning to return to him. “But really, this was… not supposed to happen.”

“It did though.”

“Yes, yes it did. And I will accept the consequences,” Jaska sighed while returning each kiss. They spoke between the touching of their lips and the drawing of their foreheads resting against one another as Camille’s hand traced the powerful shapes of Jaska’s muscles lining his heavily scarred torso. 

“I will too,” Camille answered and climbed on top of the large warrior, continuing to place kisses on his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and wherever he might cover him next with each expression of unrelenting adoration.

“Little bird… I am not an easy man to love. I am… always in my head and don’t speak my feelings very well. I was charged with protecting Desmonde and while he may not understand this at first… I hope you will help me in this explanation.”

“Does… this mean you will have me, Jaska Irakov?” Camille asked, suddenly more alert than ever amidst the haze of his post-climax. 

“I will have you, Camille Deveaux. I will keep you for as long as you want to be kept. I don’t think I’m able to refuse you. I… really never could tell you ‘no’ when your mind was made up about something.”

“I… I’m so happy. Do you… do you think you might one day love me too?” he asked, almost sobbing the words as he continued that aforementioned onslaught of kisses. Jaska laughed heartily in maneuvering the young man over himself to let him rest on top of him in a more comfortable position than Camille’s previous straddling. 

“At this point in my life, I’ve learned a good deal. I love my family and you are my family. I love my home and my work. While I don’t think I am deserving of anyone’s love like this… I will protect your heart as if it were my own and… promise to never hurt you. I welcome you teaching me to love again if that’s what you truly desire, Cam… and I am old enough to accept and forgive if you need to one day follow your heart elsewhere. I…. I made the mistake of trying to cage someone once… I won’t do it again.”

“You’ll have to tell me those stories one day… but not tonight…” he answered and leaned himself up just close enough to kiss Jaska again, letting his tongue work its way into his mouth to mingle with the heavy, sweet-tasting warmth of Jaska’s tongue in return. He tasted overwhelmingly like sweat and cum but Camille rather began to savor it as something familiar and desirable. Jaska returned the kiss and answered it with the same fervor, his hands easily gripping Camille’s rear and squeezing him fully. 

“You mentioned wanting to try something else?” Jaska interrupted the kiss, glancing downward in realizing his own erection was beginning to build up and Camille was already staggering against the weight of his own. 

“Yes… I would like to return the favor…” 

“Return the favor…?” Jaska looked on with confusion at the notion and then his intelligent eyes brightened with realization. “Oh… ah… no, no. That… is something I have not partaken in.”

“You mean to tell me that you have served all of your other lovers as you just served me and not once did they offer to do the same for you?”

“Well… I… did not think I would like it. So...sex has always been like this.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Yes. I am going to try right now,” he answered and already started pushing at one of Jaska’s muscular legs which caused a nervous laugh to break from the old warrior in seeking to pull Camille back up. He easily scooped him up in his arms instead.

“Next time, little bird… maybe. For now… keep close to me like this,” he answered and adjusted himself so their cocks were pressed against one another with Camille lying atop of him. Jaska reached downward and easily gripped both members in his impossibly strong hand and squeezed them, working them over as their breathing became heavy with delight once more. This was enough to placate the aggressive and very curious artificer as he met his eyes and returned to a maddened litany of kisses.

The two men explored one another this way for another half hour until they finished again, each sampling a taste of their seed together from Jaska’s fingers while all such acts of affection and love were met with kiss after kiss. They bathed together, finished supper, and while the power would not return until the next morning, Camille slept in, tangled up in Jaska’s arms well past ten o’clock in the morning. Jaska equally felt no desire to leave his bed but he did wake first in considering the beauty of Camille Deveaux’s features in the morning sunlight peeking through the window. It finally stopped raining.

While Jaska wondered in that quiet moment of solace about all the mistakes he made in his life and how allowing Camille to seduce him could be the new pinnacle on that list, he also knew that for the first time in twenty years, he felt good about a choice he made as it concerned another person. It would not be an easy adjustment but he was willing to try if it truly made this strange and beautiful creature happy. Lowering his head to brush his lips against Camille’s forehead to stir him, he lifted the young man’s slender arm from his torso and it unceremoniously flopped down on the bed. 

“Mmm… longer…” he answered and reached again to bring Jaska back from any movement to depart.

“Hey!” a voice called from downstairs as the door was swung open and soon several voices followed. “Cam! Jam! We’re back!” It was none other than Desmonde. And worse yet, it was also the cacophony of Spade, Broom, and Howl not far behind the closing of the doors.

“That stupid punk almost got me! Did you see that, Howl? Who the hell does he think he is? Some noble’s kid looking to try for Legatus? How dare he try to make us leave on patrol like that. I’m gonna find him and kick his ass!” Spade’s voice pierced the veil louder than the others. Camille groaned and looked over at Jaska. They exchanged looks as panic set in while the heavy weight of Desmonde’s footsteps began on the stairway leading to the upstairs bedroom. 

Both men scrambled. Camille dove for the small closet across the room and Jaska sat up to pull on his slacks and kick away the remnants of extra sheets as Desmonde, in all of his infinite wisdom, walked right in on the old warrior setting his slacks in order.

“Hey Jam!” 

“Quiet, quiet. Cam is sleeping still. I take it the patrol was success?” Jaska asked, reverting to speaking in Remerian with some clumsiness. Jaska was hellbent on keeping Desmonde’s attention away from the closet on the opposite side of the room.

“Of course! We stopped at The Epilogue and got cake for Cam. I should go wake him up, he never sleeps this late,” Desmonde laughed but was soon cut off by Jaska who needed only to wave his hand in dismissal. 

“ _ Net _ . Let him rest. We trained with the storm and he pushed himself too hard,” Jaska managed the explanation. Desmonde was observant but retained some foolish innocence. Jaska was grateful for his foster child’s obliviousness for once. 

“Looks like he got you good too,” Desmonde answered, gesturing to Jaska’s bandaged hand and wrist.

“Because he does not slack off, boy. Get on downstairs, I will see if he is ready to wake up,  _ da _ ? It is good to be seeing you home just as well,” he grinned and clapped a hand on Desmonde’s large shoulder before pulling him into a hug.

“Right, right. I want to hear all about that fight too!” he laughed and returned the quick embrace before he ran back downstairs to interrupt Spade’s vocalizing over the noble brats who nearly stole her kill the evening before.

Jaska sighed deeply as the elegant, naked form of Camille emerged from the closet and they exchanged long looks before snickering quietly. “We… we do need to tell him,” Camille whispered and stepped closer to close the distance between them. Jaska smiled, pushing the door shut to instead favor winding his large arms around the young artificer.

“After cake. He will understand… his heart is good like that.” 

“I… I really hope so. I don’t want to upset him and I need to thank him for having the key made for me,” Camille answered and let his forehead press against Jaska’s chest as he inhaled deeply of the man’s scent. “I’ll… I’ll sneak on over to my room and get dressed then. I’ll… see you downstairs?” 

“See you soon....” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
